Fear
by KoteSkirata
Summary: Ignore the title, I couldn't think of a good one. Oneshot. Episode tag "Days of Wine and Roses." My version of what happened inside Lisbon's head at the end of the episode, and what might have happened after.


**Hey, everyone. This is my first Mentalist fanfic, but after watching 'Days of Wine and Roses' I felt like I was inside Lisbon's head for a moment, and I had an idea for what might happen after. Just a small oneshot that I wrote at one in the morning. I hope you like it.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters used in this piece of writing.**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

I've felt people look at me. I've felt their eyes on me as I stand here, with my hair blowing around my face in the roar of a passing train. The ones who know what I know are probably wondering how I can just stand here, and not be afraid.

The truth is that I'm so scared I can barely breathe.

He knew. He _knew, _and he called to tell me he knew. Moments before I got Van Pelt's call, I was on the phone with Volker, and he knew. He knew that his lackey and two innocents were dead. He knew that I was about to know. He had the timing down exactly right.

How could he have known?

Volker is a demon. It's like trying to fight a hurricane. There's nowhere he can't reach, no one he can't touch, nothing he will not destroy. He intimidated Judge Davis, a woman I respect for her integrity. It took everything I had to convince Judge Manchester to sign a warrant that is now useless – Volker killed off the loose ends with no regard for who got caught in the crossfire.

He's playing with me. He is inside my head, and I know it. He knows it.

I'm so scared that my hands are shaking. I shove them deep into my pockets to hide it, but I know my eyes are screaming fear to anyone who cares to look.

Jane stands beside me and doesn't say a word. He's worried about me. Out here in the hot, rushing night, I feel exposed. Alone, right next to him. Vulnerable. I'm going to be looking over my shoulder forever now.

But I'm more than scared. I'm angry. This is wrong. This is – it's just _wrong, _beyond description, beyond belief. This bastard will go to any lengths to protect himself. How can I hope to bring Volker down?

I will. I _will _bring him _down._ No matter what it takes.

It's personal this time. And Volker knows it. He's toying with me. I want him. I want him so bad it hurts.

It takes me a short moment to remember that I am standing next to a master of revenge. Jane knows more than I ever will about long-term hunting, about mind games, about destroying the all-powerful.

Time to take him up on that offer of _help._

"Jane," I say carefully, and I can feel the weight of a full career of training and police work and policy and _professionalism_ heavy on my shoulders.

I can feel the stares of three dead innocents, one of whom I promised to protect. I'm scared. I'm so scared.

Jane looks at me, and something in his eyes soothes the fear. But all that does is free the anger, anger that builds up inside me and makes me feel absolutely _wild._

"I need your help," I whisper, and a passing train howls its way through the night, blowing dust everywhere.

Jane's face is not quite as unreadable as usual – his lips are slightly parted, and his eyes are just a little wider than normal. It's his _I didn't see this one coming _face. I've only seen it a few times, just enough to know it now.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Ok." Jane looks at me with those blue eyes, and I _know _I've gone wild inside, because looking at that blue can't bring me back. It always brings me back, every time I'm panicking or angry, I just look into his eyes and I settle down. Which makes it difficult to give him the lecture he so often deserves.

But if Jane's eyes can't bring me back . . .

Then where have I gone?

Should I even be where I am?

Then I remember the fear in Amanda's eyes, and something inside me goes hard and cold. Volker is _mine. _ I am taking him down.

No matter what it takes.

There's an investigation to lead here – photos must be taken, evidence bagged and tagged, statements collected, but I can't do it right now. I need a minute . . . or twenty. I tell Cho, "I'll be right back," and I _walk_, not _run, _to my car.

Open the door. Get in. Close the door. Put the keys on the dashboard. Put my head down. Close my eyes.

Feel my whole body shaking.

Volker can reach anyone. Destroy anyone. There are no limits to his power. He's playing with me. But what happens when he gets tired of the game? As soon as I get close, he'll –

The passenger side door opens and I jump, reaching for my sidearm and whacking my hand on the console. Jane's golden curls frame worried eyes and I _am not _pleased to see him. I need my space right now.

"What is it?" I say, and hear the exhaustion in my own voice. Each breath stretches my tight lungs, and scrapes its way through my throat.

Why can't I breathe?

Jane does that little shrug that bugs me so much, and he gets in the car. "Nothing in particular," he replies, and closes the door. "Just thought I'd check on you."

I don't want to deal with him right now. I don't want to think that hard. I just want to – I want to –

To see Volker behind bars. To not have to worry about what he might be doing. To absolve myself of Amanda's death.

To sleep for three days straight. To take a long shower and run all the hot water.

Maybe to cry.

When was the last time I cried? A long time ago. I can't seem to remember, not right now.

Jane is watching me, I know. I'm doing my best to ignore him. It's not really working.

He reaches across the console and picks up the hand that I smacked while reaching for my gun. I'm jumpy, and I almost pull away. But not quite. Not quite.

Jane turns my hand over in his, brushes his thumb over the developing red mark on my skin. I shiver at his touch, warm and gentle.

I close my eyes and try not to see dead faces. It's harder than I thought it would be.

His fingers are warm, running over my wrist, lightly rubbing my hand, almost . . . tenderly? Is that right?

It can't be. I'm almost scared to think about that. It can't be right, not now, anyway. It's his left hand. I can feel the cool band of Jane's wedding ring.

It's getting harder to breathe. I'm terrified.

Is it even possible to bring Volker down? He'll kill me the minute I come close.

Jane's hand on mine feels good, like falling into a deep sleep with pleasant dreams that you can't remember in the morning. When was the last time I slept? I feel a prickling behind my eyes and close them, fast, trying to hide the budding tears.

It's not worth the effort, and I know it. I can't hide from him. I've spent too much time trying. I know better than to try.

I won't cry. I won't. Not here. Not now. Not because of Volker. And not in front of Jane.

He gently sets my hand down, right exactly in the center of the console. Jane leans over, puts his arm around my shoulders, and pulls me into him. The console is between us, but our arms are pressed together, and I find myself laying my head on his shoulder.

Jane feels solid and warm and strong. His presence is a comfort, for once, and it reassures me to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat. That should worry me, I'm sure, but I'm too tired, too scared, and I love just knowing that someone is here to care about me in any way.

He's playing with my hair. I guess it's supposed to be comforting. It is. It really is. I can smell the shampoo he uses. Feel his breathing. I can't remember the last time I was so close to someone.

The console is pressing into my leg. My foot is going to sleep. And I just want to stay right here. Maybe go to sleep. But I want to keep my head on Jane's shoulder, and breathe to the sound he makes in the back of his throat every once in a while.

It can't happen, of course. Nothing can happen. Volker is out there, waiting. Smug. Stalking me. My team is expecting me to lead them. I have to get out of this car and go be in charge.

I almost wish I didn't have to move.

But I didn't work this hard and come this far to melt now. Volker is mine, and it's time for me to get started on the next step.

Gently, I pick my head up and slide out from under Jane's arm. He doesn't say anything, and I'm not sure if he has nothing to say, or if he just doesn't want to spook me. I know why I don't say anything – I have no idea what to say in this situation.

So I run a hand through my hair to put it back in order, and open the car door. Unintentionally, I meet Jane's eyes in the rearview mirror, and I pause to study that enigmatic blue.

He smiles that little crooked smile that always sets off the alarm bells in my head, and says, "Go get him, Lisbon."

I smile back, and step out of the car into the hot, murderous night.


End file.
